Breakdown
by Florence1
Summary: Tony and McGee are transporting a prisoner when they experience car trouble. Part 4 up
1. Chapter 1

Author's note:- Firstly, and very unusually for me, this story is already completed in four parts and will be posted over the next few days. Secondly the reason it's here is a short story in itself. Suffice to say it's all Sarah's fault, if she hadn't gotten us broken down on Route 81 near midnight in freezing conditions, well. . . apologies if you're waiting for me to post on my other stories. I hope that you can forgive me.- J

Spoilers: None, but this is set mid to late season 3 for character development and timeline.

Summary: Tony and McGee are transporting a prisoner when they have a little car trouble.

Disclaimers: This story is written for pleasure and not profit, as an homage to a show and characters that I love, in the hope that the writers and producers won't mind.

**Breakdown**

McGee turned to look at Tony with an expression of frustrated annoyance. "So how do you figure this is my fault?"

"Because," Tony stated, looking out of the front windscreen into the cold dark night, the very cold dark night, "you were in charge of transport." He looked back at McGee. "I was in charge of prisoner collection." He glanced up into the rearview mirror to see the frowning face of their handcuffed prisoner in the backseat, and flashed him a quick Dinozzo smile. "You doin' all right Griffin? Handcuffs not too tight for you?" He didn't wait for a reply. "McGee here would like to apologise for the delay in getting you to your new accommodations. Wouldn't you Agent McGee?" He turned back to McGee and grinned, again not really waiting for a reply. "See, the prisoner is all collected and snug on the backseat, but the transport. . ." he gestured vaguely at the front dash and the still flashing red warning lights.

McGee's frustrated expression tightened. They had gone together to collect Griffin, and they had gone together to collect the car. "How do you figure. . ."

"OK, Probie, who signed for the prisoner, filled in all the paperwork?"

"You did." McGee confirmed.

"Fine, so the prisoner is my responsibility and he's sitting there," Tony smiled into the mirror at him, this time giving him a little wave. He looked at McGee "And who signed for, and is therefore responsible for, the car?"

McGee sighed, resigned to agreeing with Tony's twisted logic. "I did."

"So you see, your responsibility, you clearly didn't check it properly before we left, hence we're stuck here freezing our asses off until help arrives," he glanced at the reading on the dash, 24 degrees Fahrenheit, well below freezing, and, with the clear star filled sky, only likely to get colder. He allowed just a frisson of fear, before he dismissed it as irrational. Help would be there before the cold had time to cause them any problems, and the prisoner was securely handcuffed in the back seat, the doors security locked. All they had to do was sit and wait for help, and tease McGee of course.

"Speaking of help," McGee took the opportunity to change the subject. "Don't you think it would be a good idea to call for some?"

"Gee yes McGee, I think it probably would, and, since it's your fault, I think you'd better call Gibbs and. . ."

"Oh no, I think this is a job for the senior field agent, as you keep pointing out. ."

"Hey," Griffin spoke from behind. "Will one of you just call for someone to get us out of here before we freeze to death."

Tony and McGee looked at each other.

"We could always call Abby," McGee suggested, "get her to tell Gibbs."

"Good call, Probie," Tony agreed.

McGee took out his cell and hit the speed-dial for Abby's lab, he glanced at the clock, already past 11, but Abby had been pulling several really late shifts on this case and he was confident that she would be there. The phone only rang twice before she answered. "Hey Abby, Tony and I have run into a small problem with this prisoner transport, the car. . .Hey. . .What the. . ." McGee turned at the sound of the opening door as Griffin dived from the back seat, pushing himself quickly to his feet, he scrambled across the few feet of uneven ground that led to the steep banking alongside the road and began to clamber up it. "I'll call you back."

"Hey," Tony's cry mirrored McGee's as he clicked off his safety belt, and threw his own door open, climbing out and drawing his gun in a single fluid motion. The cold air hit him like a wall, and he drew in a sharp breath, his feet crunching on the frozen grass. He looked up to get bearings on his fleeing prisoner, who was already halfway up the bank, and gave a soft curse. Vaguely his mind registered that this shouldn't have been possible, that the doors in back of the car were fitted with special security locks, but how this had happened was, at the moment, unimportant what was important was getting their prisoner back in the car as quickly as possible, if just to avoid being exposed to the sub-freezing temperatures, because Griffin had no chance of getting away. He was cuffed, for a start, which made running a lot more difficult, and Tony had at least ten years and a couple of levels of fitness on the guy. So what the hell was he playing at making a run like this when the conclusion was inevitable? Not to mention the fact that they were in the middle of nowhere, one road and a few miles of forest surrounding them. No chance of escape and Tony hadn't pegged the guy as crazy, ruthless, calculating, yes, but not crazy. "Stop, Griffin, or I will shoot you." Tony yelled, hoping to bring the farcical escape attempt to a halt before it got any further. He fired a couple of warning shots into the banking just above Griffin's head.

Griffin didn't even pause; he carried on with his frantic scramble up the slope using his hands to grab the iced grass to steady himself.

Tony swore again and hesitated, drawing a line on the back of Griffin's leg. He could easily take the shot, bring him down, but they were a long way from medical attention, in freezing conditions, and he could easily nick an artery. The guy would bleed to death before help arrived, and it wasn't his only option, with a little exercise he could bring him down without injury, so maybe he should. . . He cursed, this time at his own indecision, and holstered his weapon, the decision made by the fact that Griffin was about to clear the top of the bank, at which point he would disappear from sight. He ran forward and began his own scramble up the steep surface. The icy cold slicing into his fingers when he had to grab onto the grass. He heard the door slam shut on the other side of the car and McGee's own crunching footsteps as he crossed the grass following him, but he didn't look round. He didn't need to; McGee would be there to back him up.

Tony was panting slightly, as he crested the banking, not just from the exertion but also from breathing in the freezing air. He could feel the cold ground as though the soles of his shoes weren't there, like walking barefoot on icy blocks. He tried to ignore it as he scanned for his missing prisoner.

Griffin was running across the grass, about two thirds of the way to the forest tree-line around fifty yards away. Tony drew his weapon and set off at a dead run after him. Now he may not have the choice, because if Griffin did make it into the trees then his chances of escape would increase from the farcical to the possible, and Tony couldn't let that happen, for all his light banter Tony knew just how dangerous Griffin could be. If he got away he would kill again, there was no doubt about that, so it wasn't going to happen, even if that meant shooting him in the back. Still, he would try to run him down first.

McGee was close on Tony's heels, his warning shots had given the younger agent time to catch up, and he cleared the top of the bank only a couple of paces behind Tony. He did his own assessment and drew his weapon, moving slightly to Tony's left as he set off after him, so that he too would have a clear shot.

Griffin was almost at the tree-line and although Tony had made up some ground he knew it wasn't enough. He stopped and took aim. "Hold it Griffin," he fired a couple more warning shots into the ground, and dirt bounced up by Griffin's feet. "Next shot won't be a warning."

Griffin stopped just a few feet short of the trees and raised his cuffed hands overhead.

"Now turn around," Tony instructed, relieved that he hadn't been forced into taking the decision to shoot. It was hard enough to shoot people who were shooting back at you, near impossible to squeeze the trigger when you were going to hit someone in the back, and even though he acknowledged that it was necessary, if the person escaping would harm others if they got away, that didn't seem to make it any easier. He drew in a couple of long slow breaths, settling down the adrenaline fuelled panting, and shifted his footing to a more relaxed stance as his cell rang. He glanced across at McGee and gave a nod. McGee's gun was already leveled on the prisoner, but he raised his hands slightly, tightened his grip, as he took over responsibility for watching him.

"Tony," Abby's voice sounded a little panicked, "What's going on, I just got a call from McGee and now he's not answering his cell and he said you were having trouble and. . ."

"Hey Abs, calm down," Tony stated. "We just had a little car trouble; we need you to send out someone to pick us up. . ."

"But what about. . .?"

"Griffin decided to go for a little jog in the cold, but don't worry about it, we have everything under control."

"You're sure?" Abby asked sounding unconvinced.

"I'm sure. So if you could just send help." There was a slight pause. "And Abs you don't need to tell Gibbs about this, I mean we'll be there with the prisoner shortly, and he doesn't have to. ."

"Err, Tony, it may be a little late for that."

Tony closed his eyes briefly, his expression turning pained. "He's there with you isn't he?"

"I've got you on speakerphone," Abby admitted guiltily, "I was worried about you." She added in justification.

"Any reason she should be worried Dinozzo?" Gibbs asked.

"No, Boss, the only danger we're in is from a little frost bite."

"Good, I'll send someone out to _help,_" he emphasized the word, "you bring in your prisoner."

"Thanks I. . . ." Tony wasn't sure what alerted him to the danger, some movement in the trees, a precipitous movement by Griffin, maybe it was even the muzzle flash as the first bullet was fired, but he was moving and shouting out a warning before he heard the first shot. "Down, McGee!" He thudded to the hard ground in a roll, pushing McGee sideways as he went.

Rolling out of the move he pulled his gun up into a two handed grip, his cell dropped, dismissed as unimportant as he returned fire, bullets, from more than one automatic weapon, thudding into the solid ground around him and whistling over his head. He aimed for the bright muzzle flashes, his mind frantically working on strategy as Griffin picked himself up and turned to head for the trees. No, he wasn't getting away. This time it didn't take thought. Tony's mind was way beyond that, it was pure reaction, and he pulled the trigger, once, twice, double tap, and Griffin went down. "Make for the trees!" He yelled at McGee, who had recovered enough to start returning fire himself.

McGee didn't need telling twice. Tony would draw fire while he made cover, then he would fire so that Tony could do the same. He waited until Tony let off his next shot and then ran, skidding into the cover of the trees as Tony emptied his weapon. Then he was firing, and Tony was running, zigzagging his path, bullets pounding into the ground all around him, until he dropped behind McGee, panting heavily he dropped the clip from his weapon, pulling another from his jacket pocket and clicking it into place. "Damn," he stated. "Where did they come from?"

McGee didn't have time to answer as they were both forced to duck into the shadow of the trunk, automatic fire cutting through the undergrowth around them in a cacophony of sound and movement.

They, whoever they were, were covering their retrieval of Griffin who was still a few feet from cover. Tony managed just a glimpse of two dark figures moving out to drag him back before he was forced to duck his head back in. He drew in a breath and got his first indication of pain, a slicing white stab, that lanced up from his right side, his hand went instinctively to press on it, to hold it against the agony, and he held the breath, swallowed back the wave of nausea, closed his eyes and screwed up his face, and waited in the vague hope that it would ease off. He let out the breath long and slow, gently easing it out forcing his muscles to relax, bringing his hand up, he could just make out the glistening sticky substance on it, couldn't tell what colour it was, even in the bright moonlight, but he knew that it was red, bright red blood. He had been hit.

He wasn't sure when, he hadn't even felt it until now, his body too pumped up on adrenaline and action to even notice, but now that he had noticed the pain was breathtaking, and still he didn't have time to deal with it. They were both still in danger. He didn't even have the luxury of assessing how bad it was, until it brought him down, stopped him from functioning, it would have to wait, because right now, if they stayed here, they were both going to die. They were outnumbered, out gunned and could easily be out flanked. They had to move and they had to move now.

"We need to get out of here," Tony stated, managing to keep his voice steady.

McGee, nodded his agreement. "No way we can make it back to the road," he stated, looking across at the fifty yards of killing ground between them and the slope. "And even if we could the car's no use to us."

Tony looked around, "So we move deeper into the woods."

McGee licked his lips nervously and nodded. It wasn't a good option, but it was their only option.

"OK," Tony leaned out and let off a couple of shots, sparking some return fire, as soon as it died down he cautiously backed off into the trees, McGee following closely behind.

NCISNCIS

Abby flinched at the sound of the first bullet, then her shoulders scrunched up and she almost put her hands up over her ears as the thudding, whizzing sounds from the weapons fire continued, because if she couldn't hear it maybe it wouldn't be happening, maybe all of that firepower wouldn't be aimed at two of the people that she loved, and they wouldn't be in danger or maybe even. . . .The thud of the cell hitting the ground snapped her out of it. Tony's shouted instructions reassuring her that they were both still alive, still fighting. She looked up at Gibbs, his eyes had narrowed in concentration his brow drawn down, as he listened and assessed. He pulled out his cell, pinched his fingers to the bridge of his nose and began snapping out orders.

She turned her attention to her keyboard, tapping the keys rapidly as she accessed the information that she knew that Gibbs would need, writing down the exact coordinates of the tracker on the car and Tony's cell. Worryingly, McGee's cell was still registering in exactly the same place as the car. She handed the note silently to Gibbs as he ordered a chopper and an assault team. It was seamless, almost telepathic teamwork. The paper appeared in his hand at exactly the point he needed to give the coordinates to dispatch, and he read them off without a pause.

He clicked his cell shut, he had to move, get to the chopper, get to his team. Ziva would meet him at the helipad, but he allowed himself a moment, allowed Abby a moment. His eyes finally meeting hers for the first time since the shooting started. For just a split second he acknowledged the fear, his fear, her fear.

They could lose both of them.

"I won't let that happen!" he stated, as though the thought had been spoken. Then he was moving, making for the door, a terse, "keep monitoring Tony's cell," and he was gone.

Abby turned and stared at the speakerphone and flinched again at another rapid burst of fire. Yeah, monitor the sound of people trying to kill her friends, her favourite pastime.

NCISNCIS

Paul Griffin looked down at the body of his brother and tried to deal with the emotional onslaught. This shouldn't have happened; they were supposed to be freeing his little brother, not getting him killed. It had all been so carefully planned, the car, the location, the timing, everything down to the last detail, and now, now it was all for nothing. Anger and grief surged through him, flowing up from his gut, flooding his brain, his blood swirling and boiling. He wanted to scream, and wail, and tear off his skin in the hope that it would release the pain that was trapped in his chest, in his head. He wanted to rip everything around him apart, to quell the burning boiling anger. He did neither, standing instead and absorbing it all into one place, forming it, shaping it into an explosive charge of emotion, ready to use, ready to direct at those that had done this, the agents that had killed his little brother. "Don't worry Gil," he said, his tone tightly controlled, "I'll make them pay for this." His eyes flashed with anger. "I'll make them pay."

TO BE CONTINUED. . .


	2. If You Go Down To The Woods Today

Author's note:- thank you so much for all the reviews I hope I don't disappoint. Sorry for the slight delay but my new ISPs been playing up- don't you just love technology. As ever let me know what you think- J

**Chapter 2:- If you go down to the woods today**

McGee found himself in front as they moved further back into the woods. Tony had kept low, making short runs from tree to tree, bush to bush, pausing each time to see if they were drawing fire. He kept it up until he was sure they were far enough away not to be spotted, and then he set off at a run. They would realise soon that there was no one returning fire to their periodic bursts, would move forward to investigate and then the hunt would truly begin. To give themselves any sort of chance Tony knew that, before that happened, he and McGee had to put as much distance between them and the would-be hunters as he could, and so he ran. Him in front McGee following, and that's how it should have stayed, would have stayed if Tony hadn't been injured.

Each time Tony's right foot hit the ground a stabbing pain jarred up his side, burning, clawing pain, wearing through his defences. He gritted his teeth and tried to ignore it. Running on, pounding one foot in front of the other, stretching his legs, attempting to find the easy grace that carried him around his morning run. If he could just ignore it, just pretend it wasn't there, then he could keep going, and he needed to keep going, because if he let it slow him down, let it slow them down, then they were as good as dead.

McGee didn't notice at first, it didn't register when he passed Tony that there was anything unusual, although in a chase he'd never been able to outrun him before. When it did finally hit him, it still didn't occur to him that there was anything wrong. After all, he had been working out, paying more attention to his diet, maybe it was starting to pay off. Tony wasn't going to be able to live this down. He allowed himself a glance backwards, this would be. . . .but it wouldn't be fun at all. There was something wrong, Tony was close enough for him to make out the deep frown, the hand pressed to his side, the slightly awkward gait.

"Tony?" McGee questioned concerned, dropping his pace slightly to run at Tony's side. "Are you OK?"

"Just a stitch McGee," Tony panted out through gritted, teeth. "I'll run through it. Keep moving." He instructed, pausing to huff in deep breaths so he could say more. "We need to put as much distance between us and them as we can."

"Maybe they won't follow," McGee suggested hopefully.

Tony shook his head. "Maybe if I'd let Griffin get away, maybe they would have left us alone," he paused again, needing to concentrate on drawing in air for running. "But I didn't, I killed him McGee, and that means they'll be coming after us." He drew in another deep breath, struggling to cover the wince of pain that accompanied it. "Now shut up and save your energy for running." He hated being so abrupt, but if Gibbs had taught him anything it was pragmatism, and right now he needed all the air in his lungs to just keep moving.

McGee wasn't satisfied. He knew that Tony was hiding something, but he also knew that he was right about the need to keep going. So he settled in beside Tony, keeping pace with him instead of moving ahead, glancing across every so often. Tony was finding this run way too difficult. There was definitely something wrong.

NCISNCIS

Paul Griffin was ex-military, ex-marine, as were his team, the team he'd put together to help spring his little brother, and it had been a complicated operation, but he'd been confident they could pull it off. Logistics was his specialty. Now it had all gone wrong, and the only thing to salvage from his 'mission,' was the satisfaction of killing the Agents who had taken Gil out. He signalled to his men to move round, cautiously, leaving one to continue firing, to move between their original positions so the agents would think they hadn't moved. He led the flanking manoeuvre, coming in from the side and behind the position where Tony and McGee had hit the trees. They fired simultaneously from four directions, tearing the bushes apart before moving in.

Empty! Paul swore and scanned the surrounding ground, the agents had fled back into the woods. Next to him his second in command, Nik Dryer, dropped to one knee pinching something between his finger and thumb he brought it up to his nose. "Blood," he stated, scanning the ground. "One of them was hit."

Paul nodded in satisfaction, at least that was something. "OK, spread out, pick up their trail. They have a head start we need to get moving."

Nik Dryer nodded as he stood, turning to scan the surrounding area. The other two former marines, looked at each other. "We're going after them?" Bill Putnam, the taller of the two asked.

Paul Griffin's eyes flashed with anger, the bundle of emotion tied up tight inside him flaring briefly to the surface. "They just killed my baby brother, the one we came here to get out," he snapped. Stepping forward until his face was inches from the other man's. "So they're going to die." He paused, allowing the heat of his anger to burn across the gap between them, warming the frosty air. "Do you have a problem with that?"

Putnam swallowed hard, "Sir, no, sir," he stated, focussing his eyes forward and up as he stood to attention, allowing his marine training to take over, the formalised move designed to quell the anger that was radiating from the former lieutenant, and direct it away from him. Not that he'd always managed it at the appropriate times when he'd been in the core, part of the reason he'd been kicked out, but then, even the scariest of officers in the corps weren't as scary as Paul Griffin. Rumour was Griffin had been kicked out for failing his psyche evaluation, too unpredictable, and since Putnam had joined his team he could see why.

Griffin was apparently satisfied with that. "Then let's get moving," he said, his tone even the anger being forced back inside.

"Here," Dryer said, easily picking up the trail of crushed grass. "They went this way," and he set off at a steady trot, the others moving up behind him.

NCISNCIS

Tony heard the sound of running water with some relief, partly because a drink at that point would help ease his parched throat, and partly because he was aware of just how easy a trail they were leaving for the bad guys to follow. He'd managed to double back a couple of times so far, when they'd passed hard ground with no grass coverage where their footprints wouldn't be quite so obvious, but it wouldn't fool even a boy scout for long. A stream would give them a chance to leave a much better false trail, and, if they were lucky, they'd find some rocky ground to leave by, making it harder for the following group to pick up on them. He pushed forward, trying to quicken his pace, unaware of just how much he'd slowed down already, of just how uneven his pace had become.

McGee, however, was painfully aware of it, of the ragged breathing, the shorter step on the right side, the hand that pressed there. Part of him knew what had to be wrong but he didn't want to admit it, wasn't quite sure how to confront Tony about it, but pretty soon he wouldn't have a choice.

Tony stopped gratefully as they hit the edge of the stream and took a couple of seconds to draw in some deep breaths, bowing his head and dropping his left hand onto his thigh as he sucked air into his lungs. His right hand remained where it had been for some time now, pressing onto his right side. He looked up to see McGee watching him, drawing in his own deep breaths.

"OK," Tony said, forcing his body upright against the protesting pain. "You stay here, I'll head fifty yards or so downstream and leave a false trail then double back and we'll head. . ."

"No," McGee stated firmly

Tony allowed a flash of surprise, then uncharacteristic anger. "No, Probie? No? Just who is the senior field agent. . ."

"Tony, what's wrong?" McGee interrupted, "You've been holding your side for at least the last mile and. . ."

Damn! busted, McGee's concern was written all over his face, obviously he hadn't been as good at covering his injury as he thought, but . . . "We don't have time for this," Tony said trying to push his way past, but McGee caught his arm.

Their gazes met. "What's wrong?" McGee asked again in a tone which needed an answer.

"You been taking lessons from Gibbs?" Tony asked, making no attempt to remove his arm from McGee's grip. "'Cos that's a really good, no nonsense, stare you got going there."

"What's wrong?" McGee asked for a third time, his tone soft.

Tony relaxed his shoulders in capitulation and turned, pulling his hand away and lifting back his jacket so that McGee could get a look at his side, at the blood that soaked his shirt and down his pants leg, at the ragged hole.

McGee let out a sharp breath as his worst fears were confirmed. "You've been shot and you didn't think it would be a good idea to let me know?" He challenged.

Tony shook his head "Wouldn't have helped. Besides," he grinned, "It's only a flesh wound."

McGee caught his gaze again, caught the sparkle in his eye. "You've always wanted to say that haven't you?"

"Ever since I saw 'How to Steal a Million' Directed by William Wyler, 1966, Audrey Hepburn stars as Nicole Bonnet she has to persuade. . ."

"We need to sit you down," McGee stated, "while I get a better look."

Tony hesitated for a moment, they really didn't have time for this, but then, with the way he was starting to feel, he wasn't sure how much longer he could go on, maybe a quick rest would help. He nodded allowing McGee to back him towards the nearest tree, still gripping his arm.

"Any who, she has to persuade Peter O' Toole's character to help her steal an art treasure from a Paris museum to cover up the fact that her father's a forger. . ." He stifled a cry of pain, drawing in a sharp breath as he finally hit the ground, and fire exploded up his side. He forced himself to continue talking, one of his many defence mechanisms, because if he just carried on being his normal self, maybe he could forget how screwed they were, maybe McGee wouldn't notice how screwed they were. "Of course, Peter O' Toole's not really a thief, he's a police inspector, but if Audrey Hepburn asked you to steal something you'd do it right?" He didn't really wait for an answer. "Of course you would."

McGee had pulled out his small flashlight and held one end in his mouth as he gently began to peel the shirt away from the wound. Somehow the blood looked much worse in the beam of torchlight than it had when only lit by the moon, probably because he could now see that it was red. He swore softly as he realised that this was more than just a crease. There was a clear entry wound about two inches in from Tony's right side, near the bottom of the ribcage.

"Problem McGee?" Tony interrupted his own narrative at the soft curse, his expression dropping from jovial storyteller to serious in a beat.

McGee looked up dropping the torch from his mouth into his hand. "No, exit wound." He stated, meeting Tony's gaze.

"Oh," Tony stated softly, he'd listened to enough mini lectures from Ducky to know how bad that was, because it meant that the bullet was still inside, could be anywhere, causing who knew what damage, and the more he moved, the more potential it had to move, making the damage even worse.

McGee started to take his jacket off.

"Whoa. What are you doing?" Tony asked, his tone sharp enough to stop McGee mid action.

"I need to get my t-shirt off," McGee stated, "We need something to make a bandage."

Tony shook his head. "No," he stated firmly, gripping McGee's arm. "No way are you stripping off out here. You're already starting to shiver from the cold, you can't afford to lose another layer, and there wouldn't be enough material to make an effective bandage anyway." He looked at McGee seriously for a moment, exposing the pain, the fear, because McGee needed to see it, needed to know that what he wanted to do wasn't an option, and then he dropped back into his usual glib humour, defences up once more. "Besides with that much exposed white flesh the bad guys'll see your reflection a mile away."

"We need to stop the bleeding," McGee tried again.

"No, what we need to do is get out of here, because if those guys catch us then I'll be bleeding out of more than one hole and so will you." He shifted position on the ground, trying to ignore the leaching cold that was crawling up through his flesh. "Have you got a handkerchief?"

McGee nodded, reaching into his pocket as Tony held his hand out.

"Now," he said, pressing the cloth down onto the hole in his side and stifling a grunt of pain. "You need to go lay the false trail. Go downstream 40, 50 yards before you climb out of the water, leave a clear trail and then double back here. Then we'll head upstream."

"OK," McGee nodded, but he didn't move.

"Well what are you waiting for, an engraved invitation?" Tony snapped

"Err. .no," McGee replied, not quite sure himself why he hadn't moved yet, beyond the fact that he didn't really want to leave Tony alone like this. He wanted, no, needed to do more to help him, but what? Tony was right on all counts, what he was suggesting the only viable alternative. He pushed himself to his feet and forced himself to turn and jog away.

Tony watched him move, watched him splash out into the shallow stream and head off into the darkness, suddenly feeling very alone.

Not for long though, McGee would be back soon and they would have to move again. He looked down at the wound on his side. It was worse than he'd hoped, much worse, and he idly wondered how long it would be before he would have to persuade McGee to leave him behind. McGee had been right to challenge him. He realised now that he was already slowing him down, much more and he was going to get them both killed. No, at some point he was going to have to persuade McGee to press on alone, and that wasn't going to be easy.

NCISNCIS

Gibbs looked across the grass and down the slope to the flashing orange lights, as the car Tony and McGee had been using was towed out onto the road and away. He could just about see the eerie flashing colours from the other law enforcement cars gathered out of sight on the shoulder of the road below. The LEOs were there with the team he'd choppered in, scouring the forest, looking for clues to what had happened, and, more importantly, as far as Gibbs was concerned the whereabouts of his two agents.

He turned and headed back towards the body of Gil Griffin, lying just out of sight in the undergrowth, piecing together in his head the sequence of events as Ziva joined him.

"So Griffin made a run for it and Tony and McGee gave chase," Gibbs stated, "Tony fires a couple of warning shots into the ground and Griffin stops here." he stood just in front of the clear drag marks on the ground. "Then, Griffin's back up opens fire on McGee and Tony from over there." He pointed to the undergrowth.

Ziva nodded. "We found shell casings in four different locations."

Four to two not great odds, especially when it was hand guns against M16s. Gibbs tried not to dwell on it, forcing his mind back to the reconstruction. He turned again, back towards Tony's position. "Griffin tries to make a run for it and Tony takes him down."

"How do you know that it wasn't McGee?"

Gibbs looked her in the eye for a moment. "Double tap through the heart at 40 feet, in the dark, while under heavy weapons fire," he stated.

Ziva nodded, "It was Tony." Not that McGee's shooting wasn't getting better, but he would never be a marksman the way Tony was.

"Tony and McGee cut for cover there," He started moving towards the now decimated bushes. "While Griffin's guys are forced to lay down covering fire to retrieve his body."

Ziva dropped into step behind him. "While they're doing that Tony and McGee let off a few covering shots and then drop back into the forest, just before Griffin's guys flank them and take out their position."

Gibbs nodded again, stepping into the middle of the spot where his agents had taken refuge. The reconstruction had been important. They needed to know what they were up against, but now. . . "We need to get after them."

"The assault team's already on their trail, they'll report back every fifteen minutes."

"I know that." Gibbs stated checking his weapon. He looked her in the eye again, "But _we_ need to get after them."

Ziva nodded, drawing and checking her own weapon, dropping into step beside Gibbs as he moved off.

He had only taken a few steps when his cell rang. "Talk to me Abby."

"I will but you're not going to like it," Abby stated.

"Abby!" Gibbs growled into the phone.

"FBI has Ex- Marine Lieutenant Paul Griffin entering the country two weeks ago accompanied by three other Marine turned mercenaries, Nik Dryer, Bill Putnam and Graeme Spencer."

Gibbs stopped dead in his tracks. "Two weeks!" he repeated incredulously, Griffin's brother had been in the country for two weeks! Heads were going to roll for this, "And we didn't know because. . .?"

"Somebody screwed up somewhere, but no one is admitting it was them." Abby supplied unhelpfully.

Gibbs mind was reeling, damn right somebody screwed up, because if he'd known that Gil Griffin's brother was in the country there was no way he'd have moved him without a full military escort, and now, because of that, Tony and McGee were being chased through the woods by four highly trained and ruthless killers. Men trained by a corps that he had sworn to serve, men who had betrayed that same oath. He moved the mouthpiece of his cell away for a moment. "Damn!" He spat the word out with as much venom as a single word could ever hold. Attempting to put a lid on the boiling anger that was threatening to make his head explode, he drew in a deep breath forcing the emotion under control. "Abby, get us some more backup out here," he stated, flipping his cell shut, he set off again but this time at a run.

TO BE CONTINUED. . .


	3. Struggle

Author's note:- OK here is part 3, sorry for the delay part 4 will follow soon. Please let me know what you think- J

**Chapter 3: Struggle**

Dryer looked up at his boss. "They're slowing down," he stated, pushing up from his kneeling position where he had been examining the prints on the frozen ground. "And the one we hit is developing quite a limp."

Griffin nodded, scanning the woods ahead. "We're closing in, shouldn't be long now," he stated, giving the signal to move out.

NCISNCIS

McGee couldn't feel much below his knees by the time he made it back to Tony, and although he acknowledged that that probably wasn't a good thing. He had much bigger problems to worry about. Tony's head was down, bent forward, and he was clearly concentrating hard on something. He'd glanced up briefly, once, when he first heard the splashing sounds, but then went back to his task. It wasn't until McGee stepped up out of the freezing water, that he realised what he was trying to do. He was attempting to fasten the zipper on his jacket, but his hands were shaking too much for him to coordinate the action. McGee's gut tightened, it was a horribly potent sign of just how quickly Tony was deteriorating. Less than half an hour ago, Tony's hands had been steady as rocks.

He knelt beside him. "Here let me get that for you." He moved his hands to take the two sides of the zipper.

"No," Tony snapped in frustration. "It's OK I. . . " but it wasn't OK. He'd been trying and failing for the last five minutes. He could keep trying all night and he probably still wouldn't get it. He needed help, needed to let McGee help him. He released his grip, let out the frustration with a sigh. "Sorry." He let out another breath, "Thanks."

McGee nodded sliding the two sides of the zip together and doing it up as Tony watched.

"You should get moving," Tony said, looking up to meet his gaze.

It took a moment for McGee to properly register what he'd said. 'You,' not 'we', 'you,' he wants you to leave him. He shook his head. "I'm not going without you Tony."

Tony smiled, an easy relaxed smile, completely incongruous to the circumstances. "Like the loyalty probie, but you may not have much choice. I shouldn't have sat down. I'm not sure I can make it up again, and even if I could I won't make it far. I'll just slow you down. I'm a liability and," he paused for the briefest of moments, his eyes narrowing slightly. "At some point you will have to leave me. You've got much better odds if you do that now." He tapped the gun that he'd placed on the ground beside him. "I'll hold them off your tail for as long as I can."

McGee shook his head, "I'm not leaving you," he stated resolutely.

"There's no point in us both dying." Tony tried. "You can circle back round to the road. You can tell Gibbs. . ."

"Tell Gibbs that I left you," McGee challenged, pausing, giving Tony a chance to respond, but there was no response to that. He shook his head, "I'd rather face the homicidal guys with the automatic weapons." He picked up the gun from the ground and stuffed it into Tony's jacket pocket, shifting his position. "But you are right about one thing. We need to get moving. So are you going to help me, or do I have to start carrying you."

Tony met and held his gaze, clearly assessing his resolve, and McGee subconsciously stiffened his jaw against the scrutiny. A second passed, then another, the stillness and silence stretching them out. Tony's capitulation was signified by a soft, deliberate blink. He raised his left arm and shifted on the ground, allowing McGee to get his shoulder under his arm, so that they could push up from the ground together, McGee, half lifting him.

Tony knew that he was weakening rapidly, knew that the blood loss and the cold were getting to him, but he wasn't quite prepared for just how hard it was to stand. Fighting, the nausea and the vertigo, gritting his teeth against the still burning pain, he did his best to help, but his limbs didn't seem to want to respond, his muscles shaking with the effort, his knees refusing to lock, and he almost went down again, but McGee had him, held on to him, supporting most of his weight as he tried again, concentrated hard on actions that normally took no thought. Finally the world stopped spinning and he swallowed down the last of the bile, pushing himself into a standing position, and taking his weight back from McGee. So that he was almost standing on his own, almost.

"You been working out, Probie?" He asked, because he had to lighten the intensity, had to cover his weakness. "'Cos I don't remember all this muscle, last time you helped me up off the ground."

McGee stifled a relieved sigh, as long as Tony was teasing him, he could believe that things would be all right, Tony being serious, now that had had him worried. He ignored the question. "You OK to move?"

Tony pressed his right hand to his side and nodded and they stepped out into the freezing water together.

NCISNCIS

Gibbs pounded the ground hard, the trail ahead as easy to follow as a road. It had had enough traffic. Tony and McGee, Griffin and his mercenary buddies, and finally his own assault squad had already covered it before him, and that was the problem. They had covered it before him, albeit more cautiously, and therefore more slowly than he was doing, but they still had enough of a head start that any action would be long over before he got anywhere near it.

He didn't like the odds; Tony and McGee were good, but up against marines, even bad marines, with automatic weapons. . . .He shook his head slightly in denial. They would stay ahead of them, keep them in a game of cat and mouse until he and his squad caught up with them. Tony was good, resourceful, cunning, McGee was smart. . .

His cell rang and he answered without slowing his pace, acknowledging the local Sheriff who had turned out to help.

"I'm afraid we found blood," Sheriff Peters stated, "On the ground near where your Agent Dinozzo's cell was dropped, and again in the undergrowth where they took cover. Looks like," the sheriff continued apologetically, "one of your men was hit."

Gibbs lowered the cell briefly while he swore then raised it again, forcing himself to be polite. "Thanks for letting me know."

"I'll get back to you if we find anything else," Sheriff Peters stated, not surprised at all when Gibbs hung up without another word.

Gibbs looked up to see Ziva standing staring questioningly at him. It was only then that he realized he'd stopped, dead in his tracks, when the sheriff had said one of them had been hit. "They found blood," Gibbs answered the unasked question.

"Ours or theirs?"

It occurred to him that he wouldn't have stopped running on finding out one of theirs had been hit. It wouldn't have had the psychological impact that he was already trying to deny, because he couldn't afford to get emotional, couldn't afford to let the anxiety stifle his thinking, not while there was still hope, even rapidly dwindling hope, that they would pull them out of this. "Ours," he stated, picking up the run.

NCISNCIS

They'd been in the water for at least ten minutes when they reached the rocky outcrop. It wasn't ideal but it did cover enough ground to at least be challenging for those who were attempting to follow their trail. McGee turned them toward the bank and moved to step up onto the rocks. Tony tried to follow with his right leg but he couldn't raise it enough and he stumbled against the slight banking. Pain, jarred through his side as his foot made contact, and he cut off the cry so that it came out as a grunt. McGee staggered a little as he once again took most of Tony's weight, somehow keeping them both upright.

McGee waited, watching the pain wash across Tony's features, his eyes closed tightly as he drew in calming breaths. He didn't speak until Tony's eyes were open again. "You OK?" he asked, although that wasn't what he was really asking. He knew that Tony was far from OK, but he needed to know when Tony was ready to try again.

Tony gave a stiff nod.

"Then lets. . ."

"No," Tony interrupted, staring at the pathetically small banking that he was too weak to climb up. He wanted to scream his frustration, but he didn't, instead he tried to assess the problem rationally. "You climb out," he stated, "Then pull me up."

McGee nodded, steadying Tony with his hands, he turned and stepped backwards up onto the bank before half dragging Tony out after him. The move pulled on Tony's wound, and this time the pain whited everything out, the inside of his head exploding into a million unique tiny fragments of agony. At some level he must have started to function again, because when his thoughts regained some semblance of coherence he was once again stumbling forwards, leaning heavily into McGee as they moved through a new set of trees. He shifted, taking more of his weight, and McGee clearly noticed the change.

"You back with me?" McGee asked, not even attempting to hide the concern, the edge of panic that he was only managing to hold back because he didn't have a choice.

"Yeah, sorry," Tony apologized.

"That's the second time you've apologized to me," McGee stated. "Gibbs wouldn't approve."

"Yeah but he'll only find out if you tell him," Tony said, trying hard to finish the sentence in his head with, 'because I'll deny everything,' instead of 'because I won't be around to,' but the unrelenting fire in his side made the latter dominate. He tried to focus his eyes, tried to take in where they were going. Were they headed back to the road yet? "We need to try to make it to the road."

McGee shook his head, "No, it would mean cutting back across the stream and virtually crossing over our own trail, or a long detour. We're making for some farm buildings up ahead; we should be able to find some cover." He didn't add that the farm buildings were much closer than the road, that he had doubts about Tony making it even that far as he continued to deteriorate. He didn't go into the fact that the buildings represented probably their only hope of survival, because he suspected that Tony already knew.

"How do you. . .?"

McGee held his PDA across so that Tony could see it. "GPS, the map shows the buildings in a clearing about two hundred yards ahead."

NCISNCIS

"Gibbs," Abby bounced excitedly as she spoke, "I have you on GPS."

"Who Abs?" Gibbs asked.

"All of you," Abby stated, "I've set it up so I'm tracking your cells. You, Ziva, the assault team, even Paul Griffin, and," she added slightly triumphantly, "McGee and Tony, or . . .that is. . . McGee at least, I'm just assuming that Tony is with him."

"How?" Gibbs asked, "I thought both of them dropped their cell phones."

"Yes, but McGee also has a GPS chip in his PDA, I couldn't trace it before because he didn't have it turned on but now. . .I think I can tell you where they're headed." she said, watching the tiny labeled dots moving on the screen in front of her. "There are some advantages to having a geek on your team."

"So tell me," Gibbs stated impatiently, stopping to draw in some deep breaths and get his bearings as Abby began to fill him in on just where everyone was.

NCISNCIS

Tony was barely able to hold his head up by the time they stumbled into the barn, his right leg was more being dragged than moving, and his grip on conscious thought was sporadic at best.

McGee eased him to the ground as gently as he could, resting his back against some straw as he did his best to make him comfortable, and still every move seemed to increase his pain. Gently he undid the jacket needing to check on the wound, letting the two sides slide apart he let out a gasp as he saw Tony's glistening shirt. The jacket had acted as a barrier to the blood escaping, and it had pooled into the elasticated waist and soaked through the rest of his shirt, a thick slick now rolled down his side and to the floor as McGee watched helplessly. He looked around for anything that he could use as a bandage, but there was nothing. So he stripped off his jacket and then his shirt. Tony was too out of it to protest, and McGee knew that he had to do something to try and stem any further blood loss.

He worked as quickly as he could, keeping one eye on the only door into the barn, the reason he'd chosen it, it was the most defensible. He was just tying off the last strip of shirt when Tony groaned and opened his eyes.

He blinked languidly and tried to focus. "McGee. . .Where. . ?"

"We made it to the barn Tony," McGee stated, allowing a small sigh of relief. There was something reassuring about having Tony awake again, he didn't feel quite so alone. The relief did not last however, as Tony's eyes clouded with confusion.

Barn? What barn? Why? Tony struggled to focus his thoughts, to remember what had happened, why he was lying on the ground, but nothing would come. He tried to move, but pain spasmed from his side and he couldn't remember why. "What happened?" he asked in frustration, trying to shift again so that he could see down his right side.

McGee easily held him down. "No, don't try to move again," he said softly.

"Side. . .hurts?" Tony questioned.

"Yes," McGee replied, looking into his eyes and seeing nothing but fear and confusion. "You were shot."

"Shot?" Tony repeated frustrated. Why couldn't he remember? Being shot should be something he could. . . .

McGee's attention was drawn by a noise from outside, and his skin developed a new layer of ice that had nothing to do with the cold, as fear gripped him. This was it, his turn to face up to the bad guys. He looked down at Tony and leant forward. "Tony, you need to stay quiet. I'll be back," he said softly, close to his ear. He wasn't sure if Tony had heard him, or even understood, but he couldn't waste any more time. He pulled out his weapon, and with his heart hammering in his chest, moved back to the doorway, which he had left open just an inch or two.

He made it, watching it all the time, listening intently for any more sounds that might give away their position. Nothing, the seconds slipped by, maybe he had been mistaken. Tony shifted on the ground, mostly hidden by straw bales that McGee had placed him by, but the movement was enough to draw McGee's gaze, so that he almost missed it when the door started to move, swinging slowly open, softly, silently, one inch then two, then it was open by at least a foot and McGee leveled his weapon, waiting, but still he could see no one. He moved cautiously forward, just a little, shifting his angle to get a better view, but he still couldn't see. . .He heard the click of the weapon being cocked, close to his ear, felt the cold barrel of the gun on his neck, and he knew that he was dead.

Only then did a figure step out of the shadows in front of him. "You know if you were going to shoot me McGee, you should really have done it through the door."

McGee swallowed as the relief surged through him at the sight of Gibbs in front of him. "Boss," he said lowering his weapon and flicking the safety back on as he turned to see Ziva behind him, she too lowered her weapon. "But how. .?"

"Loose board at the back of the barn," Ziva, stated.

"And Abby's been tracking you," Gibbs stated, holding up his cell phone. He looked round. "We don't have a lot of time. Where's Tony?"

McGee nodded across to the bales of straw and Gibbs turned, catching sight of the edge of Tony's leg. He was moving before McGee got the first word out.

"He took a bullet in the side," McGee moved after him while Ziva took up a defensive position by the door. "He's lost a lot of blood," he added but the words were unnecessary, Gibbs had reached Tony's side, could see for himself.

Gibbs swore, and there was nothing soft about this curse, Ziva turned her head to look at them as Gibbs dropped to one knee to get a closer look at the damage. Damn it was bad. He looked at his watch, two hours had passed since he had first heard the gunfire, and Tony had been bleeding for all that time, bad enough if he'd kept still, but he had been running through the forest, hunted, chased down like. . . .His fists clenched in frustration, in anger, and he had the overwhelming desire to hit something, because there wasn't a damn thing he could do, not until they'd taken out Griffin and his team. He pulled his coat off and tucked it around Tony's shoulders, and Tony's eyes drifted open again.

Tony tried hard to focus on the figure next to him but all he got was a blur. "McGee?" he questioned, because he was fairly sure McGee had been here with him, not that he was sure where here was.

"Gibbs," he corrected softly.

Tony struggled again to focus, "Boss?" he questioned again. "What happened? Why. . .?" he asked, again trying to push himself up, but he didn't have the strength. His thoughts were spinning, snatches of gunfire, running, cold, so cold.

"It's OK, Tony," Gibbs stated in a soft tone that McGee had only ever heard him use before with children. "Just keep still; we're going to get you out of here."

Tony's brow creased in a frown as he considered the instruction. "Keep still. . . . can do Boss. . .can. . . ." his eyes began to drift closed

"Hey Tony, stay with me." Gibbs tone became a little sharper, "Tony!" but it was no good, Tony's head dropped slightly to the side. Gibbs looked up at McGee. "How long's he been like this?"

"He started, getting confused, about thirty minutes ago," McGee replied, watching Tony fighting and losing the battle to remain conscious. "He's been out of it mostly for the last fifteen."

Gibbs nodded, his gaze drifting down again. Dammit they needed to get him out of here.

Ziva shifted her position at the door. "We got company," she stated.

TO BE CONTINUED. . .


	4. Lucky

Author's note: Wow, thanks so much for the reviews, again I hope the ending doesn't disappoint. As ever let me know what you think and thank you for your support:- J

Chapter 4: Lucky?

Gibbs reluctantly stood and moved away from Tony, the quicker they got this done, the quicker they could get Tony help, and that involved taking out the bastards outside in short order.

He moved over to Ziva by the door. "I can see two," she stated, indicating their general directions with the end of her weapon. "They haven't cleared the edge of the woods yet." She looked back at Gibbs. "How is he?" her eyes were drawn towards Tony's position on the floor even though she knew that she did not have the angle to see him. The backwards glance was enough to betray the depth of her concern. She turned to meet Gibbs gaze.

"Bullet to the right side, heavy blood loss, probable hypothermia," he stated bluntly, because blunt was the only way he could be. Blunt was the way he had been trained. In combat it was the only way that didn't cost more lives, because there wasn't time for emotion. No time for emotion, Gibbs struggled to remind himself.

"So he doesn't have lot of time?"

"No," Gibbs confirmed, still somehow managing to keep his tone neutral. "He doesn't." He turned back to McGee, the younger agent looked dead on his feet. He was barely holding it together himself, clearly the cold and the physical exertion of helping Tony had taken it out of him, but still he hovered protectively. "Stay with Tony, cover him," Gibbs ordered, not sure if he could have ordered him away. He turned back to Ziva. "You cover the back in case one of them finds your entry point." He clicked his headset radio to on. "Horrowitz?" he addressed the Commander of the assault squad.

"In position Gibbs and ready on your go."

"Then let's do this,"

Gibbs moved slightly closer to the door opening. "Hey, you out there. We are armed federal agents. Throw down your weapons and come out into the open with your hands on your head." He ducked back and down as the answering bullets slammed into the wooden doorframe, splintering wood through the gap. "Guess not," he said, more to himself than to anyone, although his mike was still open. "Ok, people move in."

The world exploded into a cacophony of weapons fire. Gibbs drew aim through the doorway on one of the positions Ziva had pointed out. He vaguely registered fire coming from behind him, which meant at least one of them had attacked the rear, but it was only a vague acknowledgement, he trusted Ziva to handle it.

As in most gun battles involving automatic weapons the firefight was short and bloody. Gibbs' team had the advantage of surprise, all of the mercenaries attack was centred on the barn, by the time they realized their mistake it was too late. The last bullet thudded harmlessly into the ground as the final attacker went down and a deafening silence followed.

It was Gibbs who broke it. "Report," he instructed, acknowledging one by one as the assault team first and then Ziva confirmed that the perps were down, one, two, three, Gibbs waited for the fourth confirmation but it didn't come. "That's only three," he stated, unnecessarily into the headset. Everyone had been listening.

The expletive was loud in his head and he barely refrained from yelling it into the mike. They couldn't bring in the EMTs until the area was secure and that meant that Tony. . . . He kept a tight grip on the emotion, even as he turned. "Does anyone have any idea where our fourth guy went?"

Silence.

"OK, try and identify which one's still out there."

He looked across at McGee, who was still kneeling by Tony's side, his features drawn and weary. McGee seemed to feel the scrutiny, he looked up, met Gibbs gaze, his eyes betraying the now near hopelessness of his concern. Gibbs turned away, because he couldn't maintain his emotionless control and look in those eyes at the same time. They were running out of time.

"Gibbs?" It was agent Horrowitz. "Looks like it's Paul Griffin who evaded us."

Gibbs hit the speed dial on his cell "Abby? You said you had Griffin's cell on GPS. I need the coordinates."

Abby obediently read them off.

"Horowittz you got that?" Gibbs asked.

"Yeah we're just checking." There was a short tension filled pause. "Damn! Sorry Gibbs, Looks like Dryer had the cell on him."

Gibbs tried hard to keep the resignation out of his tone; they didn't have time for this. "Ok, spread out, cover the perimeter again," he ordered, his mind working rapidly.  
"Get the chopper over here but tell it not to land yet, and get Doyle in here."

Agent James Doyle was six four and two hundred and twenty pounds of solid muscle. He trotted over easily to Gibbs, who acknowledged him with a nod.

"Do you think you can carry him?" Gibbs asked, nodding to where McGee knelt by Tony.

"No problem," he stated following Gibbs across the barn. He made to move around the other side of Tony.

"No, not him," Gibbs pointed at McGee, "Him."

Both Doyle and McGee looked at him in surprise. Gibbs stared back and Doyle turned to look McGee up and down once. "Even less problem," Doyle stated.

"Good," Gibbs replied, moving forward to explain the plan.

The timing was crucial, the chopper hovering and moving down as Gibbs, McGee and Doyle broke from the cover of the barn and headed out into the clearing to the right of it. It was a calculated guess on Gibbs' part that Griffin was still there, waiting to ambush them if they tried to move Tony and McGee, that he would wait and risk everything to get revenge for his brother, despite having lost the rest of his squad. Griffin wasn't the type to give up.

So he was playing McGee, and McGee was substituting for Tony, because there was no way Tony was going to survive the rough handling of being carried, and there was no way Gibbs was going to use his unconscious agent as bait.

Gibbs scanned the woods as they moved, his head was dipped slightly and he tried to walk with a weary step, one hand beneath his jacket clutching his weapon. The rest of the agents had pulled back into the woods, feigning a search pattern, before settling into position to cover Gibbs' move. Gibbs wasn't sure what he was going to do if they made it to the chopper without Griffin making his move. At this point it wasn't really an option. This had to work because Tony didn't have the time for them to try anything else.

He needn't have worried. They were ten yards short, the chopper coming in to land in front of them when Gibbs caught the movement. Griffin was about fifteen feet above the ground hiding in one of the trees. Gibbs, pulled his weapon aimed and fired in a single smooth action, Griffin's weapon firing fruitlessly, kicking up blades of frozen grass as he took a headfirst dive onto the frozen ground.

The helicopter had pulled back up at the first sign of gunfire and McGee had been dropped to his feet, he and Doyle turning and aiming their own weapons in a move that looked like it had been practiced, but they weren't needed.

Gibbs had hit his mark. He allowed the slightest smile of satisfaction, as he moved over, kicking Griffin's weapon away and checking that he was dead.

Now they needed to get Tony out of here. "Get that Medivac chopper in here now," Gibbs spoke into the headset, as he turned and ran back to the barn.

Ziva shifted guiltily as Gibbs entered, and he was surprised to realize, that she was almost certainly letting go of Tony's hand. Part of him was surprised that she had stayed with him at all, that she hadn't followed the action. He didn't have her down as the caring, sharing sort, most of the time it was easy to forget that she was a woman, and most of the time that was the way she wanted it, but she couldn't suppress all of her instincts, couldn't hide the fact that men and women were different. Under that brusque, no prisoners approach to the world, buried somewhere deep was a tenderness that she rarely let show, and Gibbs had just seen it, exposed and raw, even though she covered it now. She shifted to her knees as Gibbs approached. "He's barely breathing," she stated.

Gibbs nodded, staring down at Tony, biting back the emotion. He'd been his usual idiot self, his usual competent, save the world self, less than two hours ago, and now. . .Gibbs swore again to himself, cursing the unfairness of the world. "EMTs are on their way in," was all he could bring himself to say.

They were loading Tony into the chopper when McGee made his request. It had taken them a few minutes to stabilize him and now he was covered in blankets and masks and IV tubes. It was difficult to even see him under all of the paraphernalia they were using to help keep him alive, but at least he was alive, and that meant there was still hope.

"I'd like to go in with him?" McGee turned to look at Gibbs, realizing how pathetic that sounded, that Gibbs had every right to get on the chopper with him, that he. . .He struggled to find the words to explain the need he felt. He had been there, holding him up keeping him alive, pressing his hand against Tony's side in an effort to prevent his blood flowing away. He couldn't just leave him now, couldn't bring himself to abandon his care to others, even though he knew it made no logical sense. There was nothing he could do. "I just need. . ." he began.

"It's OK McGee," Gibbs stated, resting his hand on his shoulder, "you are going in with him."

For a moment McGee was slightly confused, suspicious. Gibbs was being far too nice and then he realized that Gibbs wasn't alone, that there were two other people there behind him, he turned back so that he could see, realized that they had been there for a little while now, that one of them had a blood pressure cuff around his bicep. The pressure on his shoulder increased a little, and he found himself being pushed down onto another stretcher.

"Hypothermia, frostbite, exhaustion," Gibbs explained as McGee became aware of an oxygen mask being placed over his face and an IV going into his arm. "Yes, you're definitely going in with him."

NCISNCIS

Abby was bouncing her pigtails waving in a slightly circular pattern as Gibbs entered her lab and deposited the giant Caf-Pow on the desk in front of her.

"I just got through talking to the hospital and they've downgraded Tony's condition from critical to serious. They say it looks like he's going to pull through just fine. Isn't that great news?" She asked, bouncing again and grinning from ear to ear.

Gibbs gave a genuine smile. He had already known, having spoken to the doctor himself but it was impossible not to respond to a happy Abby. "Yes," he agreed, dipping his head to one side. "It is good news, but since you only just hung up the phone that's not why you wanted me down here."

Abby ignored the lead in, staring at him instead. "You know you have a really great smile," she stated, moving forward to pick up, and take a sip from the Caf-Pow. "You really should smile more often."

Gibbs shook his head. "Wouldn't fit the image."

Abby considered it for a moment. "Hmm, I guess smiling and gruff don't really go together."

"Abby, why am I here?"

"Oh, OK I figured out how Griffin and his pals sabotaged the car." She moved across to a circuit board that was attached to her computer, tapping on some keys to bring up a schematic. "They simply hacked into the CPU and adjusted the engine management system so that it told the engine to shut down, flashing all kinds of warning lights at once, which wouldn't really be possible with a real fault." She paused for a moment and her brow furrowed in puzzlement. "McGee should really-a picked up on that, but I guess he doesn't know enough about cars, and Tony, he knows enough about cars but not enough about computers I guess and. . ."

"Abby!"

"Anyway it was pretty sophisticated stuff, remotely operated, took out the security locks too. Griffin must have paid big bucks for it."

"So how did they get it into the car?"

"Only one way," Abby stated, "last scheduled maintenance was just a week ago by a mechanic called Sid Abrahams who retired the following day." She pulled up Abrahams' details on the plasma "I've had all the other cars he worked on in the past few weeks pulled out of service to be checked."

Gibbs flicked open his cell. "Good work Abby," he stated, before it connected.

NCISNCIS

"Ah Gibbs," Ducky greeted as the autopsy doors slid open. "Good news about our young friend Tony, I've just finished talking with Dr Reeves at the hospital."

Gibbs gave a wry smile, "I'm surprised she has time to treat any patients."

Ducky looked with puzzlement at the comment. "What?"

Gibbs shook his head dismissively.

"Oh, yes, well, it seems young Anthony was very lucky."

Gibbs eyes narrowed slightly. "Can't say I'd define being chased through the woods by ex-marine mercenaries while nearly bleeding to death as lucky, Duck."

Ducky paused to consider for a moment. "Not when you put it like that no, I suppose not, but," he gestured at the fully occupied set of tables in the room, "certainly more fortunate than the gentlemen who were chasing him, and that is why I say he was lucky, lucky not to be here with them." He gestured for Gibbs to follow him over to the light boxes at the end of the room. Switching one on, he used the X-ray that was there in his explanation. "The bullet entered here, hitting the seventh rib and breaking it. Now, there were many paths it could take from that point, plenty of soft tissue to penetrate and much damage that it could have caused, but it seems that it hit at such an angle that it was deflected up through the intercostal tissue, and came to rest here lodged against the sixth rib, causing a painful but not immediately fatal wound. In fact a wound that allowed him to keep moving so that he and McGee could make their escape. Although I'm not sure how he managed to run with that level of pain." Ducky's mind drifted for a moment into empathy, before he shook himself out of it. "Of course the other thing that saved him was the extreme cold."

Gibbs nodded that part he understood. "Slowed his metabolism, reduced blood flow to the skin, and therefore slowed blood loss."

"Right," he turned to face Gibbs. "So you see very lucky." Their eyes met, and in it a silent acknowledgement of what this discussion was really about. They hadn't lost a friend that day, but it had been close, too close, and they both needed to express it. The moment held, the emotions seeped across the gap before being buried again. "Very lucky indeed." Ducky stated.

NCISNCIS

It had been a long night that had stretched well into the morning before Gibbs had tied up enough of the loose ends, and completed enough of the paperwork that he could allow himself to go home. He knew how their security had been breached and they therefore had a good chance of preventing anything like this happening again, but he still had one more stop that he had to make so that he could rest easy. It was all very well the doctors telling him that Tony was all right, but he had to see for himself. Had to banish the image of the pale deathly shell that he had waved off the previous night, had to do that before he could sleep.

McGee was fully dressed, just standing watching Tony sleep when Gibbs entered. He looked up, not even slightly embarrassed by his vigil. They acknowledged each other with a nod, but neither man spoke; they just watched the gentle rise and fall of Tony's chest.

It was McGee who finally broke the silence. "They discharged me an hour ago, but I can't seem to bring myself to leave." He gave a slight smile. "Condemning myself to a fate worse than death, sharing a hospital room with Tony Dinozzo."

"No," Gibbs corrected, "that only applies if it's an awake Dinozzo."

McGee's smile widened a little. "You have a point," he agreed. He looked back down at Tony, his expression dropping to serious. "They say he's unlikely to wake up until tonight." He idly wondered if he'd still be standing there then.

"You saved his life McGee," Gibbs' tone had shifted. "Has a way of making you feel responsible."

McGee nodded, that was exactly how he felt. Like he was suddenly personally responsible for keeping Tony safe. "How long will it last?" he asked, looking up to meet Gibbs' gaze.

Gibbs stared back at him pointedly. "I'll let you know when it goes away."

McGee stared for a moment, not the answer that he'd been expecting, but he could see the sincerity of it in Gibbs' eyes.

He looked back down at Tony and let out a thoughtful sigh. "Now that I've saved his life do you think he'll stop calling me 'probie?'"

Gibbs head tilted to one side and he gave another half smile. "No."

McGee nodded.

There was a drawn out pause. "Would you really want him to?" Gibbs asked softly.

McGee looked up, there were so many reasons why he should want Tony to stop using that term, not least that he'd served his probation many times over, but that wasn't what Gibbs was really asking him. He was asking him if he wanted things to change.

"No," he replied, "I guess not."

NCISNCIS

Tony shifted on the bed and felt the burn of pain dance down his side. He could take more painkillers, but he was happy to let the pain by for the moment. It was a good reminder of how lucky he was to be alive. Even so, he would have to take something before Abby's visit, because that hug was going to be a killer.

He smiled across at his visitor. He'd been trying to convince McGee for the last twenty minutes that the team in general and Gibbs in particular, couldn't function properly without him, and that McGee should smuggle him in a laptop, but McGee wasn't being convinced.

"You need to rest Tony," McGee stated.

"Rest that's all I've been doing." Tony replied. "I don't need any more rest."

"Then why have you yawned three times in the last five minutes?" McGee challenged.

"I haven't," Tony protested, yawning.

McGee stood "Look I'm going to leave you to get some sleep." He took a step towards the door.

"Hey Probie."

McGee turned to look back at him.

Tony swallowed hesitantly. McGee had been visiting him for four days now and there were things that needed to be said he just didn't know quite how to say them. "You've. . Er. . .been very attentive these last few days. . .I. . Er. " It wasn't like Tony to be tongue tied. Dammit why couldn't he get the words out? What was it that he even wanted to say? Damn this wasn't coming out right at all.

"Yeah, well I just. . ." McGee felt equally awkward.

"Thanks," Tony said, and then he reviewed the last minute of conversation and realised that it came out like he was thanking him for visiting him, and it wasn't that, wasn't that at all. "For not giving up on me," he stated.

Did McGee understand?

"Thanks," he repeated.

McGee couldn't help notice that Tony took on his own particular brand of shy when he was being sincere, and he was being sincere now. "You're welcome." McGee replied meeting and holding his gaze.

Oh, yes, he understood. They both did.

The end. 


End file.
